


When Peter Died

by Mystery_Name



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, just a random short story that came into my mind, warning the first chapter is sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-17 14:58:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystery_Name/pseuds/Mystery_Name
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LET'S MAKE A STORY TOGETHER! :D</p><p>There's no summary for this work until the story is finished with your lovely help ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Make A Story Together; Introduction and Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LET'S MAKE A STORY TOGETHER! :D
> 
> There's no summary for this until the story is finished with your lovely help ;)

 

* * *

  

_**Hello, you just reached the awesome page of rules. <3** _

 

* * *

 

 

This fanfiction is the "go with the flow" kind of thing. It will be open to everyone and anyone who wants to write in it, buuuuuUUUUTTTTT---!!!!! BUT there are a few rules:

 

RULES:

 

1) Please don't destroy the story. I mean there will be no "1,000 reasons why Spideypool is a stupid couple", and things that just goes against the reason why we are creating this story together. And to avoid confusion, it's okay to write a  an M fiction story that includes heavy sadness, abuse, death, and other things, but that's up to the person who is writing the story. However, if things get a little too intense (for example: 9 long a$$ chapters about Peter thinking about suicide, there is no story plot but suicide, no progression going on just suicide...etc.), I'm either going to ask you to change it or remove it. If you're not too sure about something, please ask me (but I rather read it because I don't like spoilers).

 

2) Every chapter is written by someone. And if you also want to have like a partner or something for that chapter you are assigned to, that's okay too, but pleases also run it by me first.

 

3) I will be the one ending this story, which means either I'm going to screw up or it'll be the best story we have ever written together. For some of us, it will be our first time we have ever written with someone (yay to writing virgins like us!). But do you know what this also means? **ANYONE can participate at ANYTIME until this story is over.**

 

4) Please respect each other's work. One of you may not agree with the other person on what they wrote about, but remember, this story is the “go with the flow” kind of thing. Therefore, no one is allowed to disrespect another’s work since this fanfiction is basically “fresh” all the time. I really don’t know how to explain what I said in a different way, but if you get that’s awesome, If you don’t but would really like to, please just message me.

 

5) It’s okay if you think you are a bad writer. I’m a bad writer, heck, everybody started out as a bad writer--but we learn from bad writing. And we have editors. So don’t doubt yourself for a second, and come and participate. The worst thing that could happen is me asking you to change a certain part of the story because it was too over the top.

 

6) Everyone will have a chance to go at least once before the same people can get to participate again. First come, first serve. I’ll notify you (in the ending notes) who’s next and when everyone already had a chance to go, so that way you can go again (if you want).

 

7) It’s okay if this story is filled with random $hit, but we need it to makes sense somehow, kinda like ABC’s _Once Upon A Time_ and _Heroes_. I really want to end this smoothly, but if you guys leave things unresolved then the last chapter will be the longest chapter ever because I like stories having resolved endings. But if half you that will participate (at least I’m hoping with all my heart that a good amount of people will participate) want an unresolved ending, then I’ll make a poll and just let it decide from there.

 

8) This is not really a rule, but and idea of what could happen. _Maybe_ we might have group chat meetings. Maybe. But I highly doubt it to be honest. However, if there are too many conflicts in the story and things are going out of hand, then we _will_ have a group chat meeting and try to resolve it together without fighting.

 

9) Experimental/Creative writing is ALWAYS welcomed, especially since the first two chapters was basically that. I just wanted to write the scene in my head in a different way. However, I want there to be a balance between experiment/creative writing (and poetry is also welcomed for you poet lovers out there), and prose writing. I don’t want too much of one thing.

 

10) I'll send you a message when it's your turn, but if I don't get a reply within 1 to 2 weeks, then the chapter will go to the next person in line.

 

And….

 

I think that’s all the rules I have for now.

 

I’ll probably edit this chapter later and only post the guidelines to participating in this fanfic, since my introduction won’t be really needed for future participants. You can be rest assured of whether or not you should bookmark this chapter (I say that you should because I will never delete this chapter since it will be needed for future use).

 

Hmmmm…. I think that’s it. If you have any questions, you can just comment below.

 

\


	2. When the Heart goes Ba-Dump and dies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third P.O.V (point of view). With Wade.
> 
> (Grab your box of tissues if you're the emotional type).
> 
> I tried to write the sounds, but here's the audio if you prefer:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ijtdiGupvk

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Beep.

 

Ba-dump. Beep.

 

Ba-dump.. Beep.

 

Ba-dump.. Beep.

 

Ba-dump... Beep.

 

Ba-dump, Boop Boop Boop.

 

Ba-dump, (Ba-)Boop(-Dump) (Ba-)Boop(-Dump) (Ba-)Boop(-Dump).

 

Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE

                                        (WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

-Ba-KleE-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE-Ba-Dump-KleE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaAAaAAAaaAaaAaaaaAaaaaaAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah).

 

 

* * *

 

 

Nobody saw it coming, not even Wade who had the gift of predicting people's futures. He was absolutely sure that his best friend (and secret crush), Peter, was going to live a long life because of the good heart he had.

So as Wade held the phone to his ear, a shock came over him and his phone clattered to the ground.

He did not care if the screen was broken. He did not care if he was standing frozen in the middle of the road as the snow continued to fall. He did not care if the drivers of passing cars were honking at him. All he cared about was his best friend, Peter, who had passed away not too long ago.

Drip.

He cared so much,

Drop.

that his heart felt like it was going to die.

Drip.

He cared so much,

Drop.

He cried.


	3. Blink Once, Blink Twice, and then Five Times More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Peter. (I am very sorry to inform you that this chapter is supremely short.)

Peter woke up.

Blink, Blink.

Everything is blurry, he doesn't know where he is, but he knows for a fact that he is standing.

Blink, blink. 

His eyes are adjusting, and he could make out a bed.

Blink, blink.

And a body in that bed. Was that body...

Blink.

His?


	4. Questions of a Dead Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We don't spoil our chapters with short summaries ;)

Staring at his own dead body, all Peter could think about was how ungraceful he looked.

 

In the movies, usually when someone died, they did it perfectly. Well, if 

there was a perfect way to die. They’d leave this world in a graceful position, eyes slack and relaxed with no blemishes.

 

Peter on the other hand…

 

He laid on the bed, hair looking crazy and messed up, like a horribly done modernized version of Einstein. His eyes were closed, but there were dark, heavy-looking bags under them. Peter faintly remembered being exhausted from a weeks-worth of studying for college. Right now though, the effects of endless nights of late text-book reading and caffeine had left without a trace. Peter also noted how gangly and scrawny the hospital gown made his body look. Sure he wasn’t exactly a body-builder, but Peter had worked hard on packing SOME muscle on his frame.

 

But that was his first thought. His second thought was along the lines of:  _ Wait. How the hell did I die anyway?! _

 

Peter made a note to himself that he really needed to get his priorities straight - that is until he realized:  _ I’m dead now. To hell with priorities _ !

 

Of course, when glancing at the bed again and letting the realization that he was (in fact) dead sink in, did Peter then freak out. He jerked away with a gasp and tripped over his own two feet, landing ungracefully on his butt. Then he took a few minutes of staring at his body in shock. Then he took a few more minutes screaming in panic.

 

But his screams and shouts were left unheard. When a nurse came into the room to take away some of the equipment (that had once been working to keep him alive – little good did that do), she glanced at Peter’s body on the bed with a sad frown, ignoring the questions of the actual Peter from behind her. It was confusing and – to be honest – scary that first hour; and…weird. Peter knew he was dead from the moment he first saw his body. It was a fact that had been planted in his head as soon as he woke up, like, ‘ _ see that body lying on the bed? That’s you. Because you died. HA! Noob.’ _ It just seemed right, like it was as commonly known as Tony’s social life.

 

Despite knowing this, Peter couldn’t help trying to talk to everyone that came into the room. And whenever he tried to follow them out, he was pulled back.

 

It was like one of those backpack leashes for kids, pulling him back to the fleshy husk he used to inhabit when he strayed too far away from it. 

It was as if him and his body were still tied together with an unbreakable and extremely strong string. It made Peter question what would happen when his body was buried.

 

Would he go ‘into the light’ as soon as his coffin went in, or would he be confined to remain close to his buried body and forever haunt the cemetery, like in those cheesy horror movies Peter used to watch with Harry. That made the situation all the more horrible.

 

Peter knew it wouldn’t be long before they put his body somewhere else. The hospital couldn’t keep it in here forever. Huffing tiredly, Peter slumped down into the chair next to the bed. If he was technically a ghost now, he wondered if he’d end up falling right through the chair.

 

He was surprised when he didn’t. Peter walked straight through people and objects (further evidence that he was a ghost) when they were with him, earning only a small shiver in return. It was as if they were suddenly cold. But it turned out Peter didn’t go through everything. He wondered why. Was it natural? Unnatural? Was going through objects based on emotions or focus? Peter just didn’t know! The scientist in him wanted to test it.

 

But at that moment the door opened again, and Peter looked up. A frail old woman entered the room, wearing a heavy coat, slightly damp from the light snowfall outside. She was clutching her purse with long, slender fingers. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the body on the bed.

 

A surge of guilt crushed Peter’s heart (or would if it was still beating). 

“Aunt May.” He whispered. He hadn’t even thought about how this would affect her. She had lost everyone -- Peter’s parents, Uncle Ben, and now Peter himself. Peter clenched his fist. This was unfair. So unfair. Aunt May deserved anything and everything. She’d sacrificed and loved Peter so much, and how had he repaid her? By probably doing something stupid and getting himself killed!

 

Peter wasn’t sure just how he had died yet. Those memories were a little fuzzy. But knowing him, it was most likely something idiotic, like, for instance, dressing up in red and blue, skin-tight spandex and fighting crime on a daily basis, armed with nothing but quick-wit, web-shooters of his own invention, and morals.

 

Which actually led to another question:  _ What was to become of Spider-Man _ ?

 

New York was bound to notice when their ‘Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’ didn’t show up to save the day. How many robbers and thugs and villains would get away with their crimes unpunished? How many of the innocent would suffer at the hands of those people? How many people would be in danger and look hopefully up to the sky, waiting for a hero who was never going to show up?  

 

All these thoughts – death, Aunt May, the innocent – swirled in Peter’s head, making him dizzy. How were his friends going to react? How would New York fare without him roaming the streets? Would the Avengers notice his absence and wonder? Would Aunt May be able to finish paying off her debt? Would people be able to tie the death of Peter Parker and the disappearance of Spider-Man together? Would Jameson make the connection? Would Aunt May be in danger for that?

 

So many questions and all with no answers. Peter put his head in his hands and groaned in utter misery. Just before he could shut down his brain to withhold himself from panicking, one final question was pulled from his muddled brain:

 

Did Deadpool – Wade Wilson – know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else wanna participate?


	5. Bodiless Soul, What Doth You Feel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a sharp, almost uncatchable inhale of breath, and then sheet was back in its place. 
> 
> Deadpool was completely still and silent, something that was so foreign to anyone that knew him. His fist were clenched tightly by his side, and his mask (for once) looked cold and emotionless.

Peter was pacing the room tirelessly. 

He traveled the perimeter of the hospital room over and over and over again; passing through people and objects alike, absentmindedly. He was thinking fiercely about the last 48-72 hours, desperately trying to reconnect the jigsaw puzzle that was his thoughts. He felt fine (ghost-wise), and he seemed to have his memory intact - aside from that last 24 hours! He still had no idea how he di-died; this jigsaw was missing pieces, leaving him with a weird, black-dotted picture that he couldn’t make out. 

He faintly remembered that the last sensation he felt, being a stinging around his neck and something cold encasing his body - but that was it. It was frustrating. Being unable to remember everything. If he could, Peter would’ve punched the wall or something by now. 

This didn’t make sense. None of it did! 

The last thing that he could  _ fully  _ remember was getting ready to go out for patrol. He remembered being extremely happy about it - didn’t remember why though. But, that was it. 

Huffing in frustration, Peter plopped down on the chair (almost falling through) and ran his fingers jerkily through his hair. Glancing through the corner of his eye, Peter saw Aunt May clutch the armrest of her chair. She was staring at the bed where Peter’s body still lay, though a sheet was pulled over it, as to hide it from view. He wouldn’t be there for much longer though - if what the nurses were saying was true. He’d be going to the morgue (or something) soon. 

Peter turned to look at his guardian better. Her aged face was pale, he lips were trembling and her eyes were glazed with unshed tears. A horrible sensation of guilt hit Peter, and he hesitantly put his hand over hers, before squeezed reassuringly - even if she probably didn’t feel it. 

Aunt May shivered though, as if suddenly cold, and pulled her hand through Peter’s to wrap her coat tighter around herself. 

“You didn’t deserve this Aunt May.” Peter told her. “You don’t deserve to see all of your family die. You don’t deserve to be alone. I’m sor-sorry.” he longed to embrace her, but knew it wouldn’t do anything - other than make her cold that is.  

Anything else Peter wanted to say to unhearing ears, was interrupted by the door to the room suddenly banging open. Peter jumped to his feet to face the visitor, and stopped in his tracks. He felt his chest seize and his breath suddenly stopped - which was stupid because he wasn’t even breathing anymore! 

He watched Deadpool, still clad in his red and black suit with his guns and swords strapped to his thick, muscled limbs, look at the pale-sheet obscuring the view of the body beneath it. The world seemed to stop spinning as Deadpool remained rooted to the ground, staring at the bed. Then, the mercenary slowly walked toward it. The squeak of his wet boots was the only sound in the room, then the rustle of the sheet a moment later, as he moved it away to glance at the boy beneath. 

There was a sharp, almost uncatchable inhale of breath, and then sheet was back in its place. 

Deadpool was completely still and silent, something that was so foreign to anyone that knew him. His fist were clenched tightly by his side, and his mask (for once) looked cold and emotionless. 

“Wade.” Aunt May’s frail voice snapped him out of his odd, silent behavior and Deadpool immediately reached for the elderly lady and wrapped her in his arms. Upon contact, Aunt May burst into bursts of sobs and gasps. 

“My boy,” she cried. “My boy. He’s gone Wade. He’s - he’s gone. I don’t even know- I didn’t even…” the words were drowned with another wet-sob and her body shook with a tears. Wade held her close, nodding along with her pain and whispering small snippets of comfort. 

Peter watched them from a distance, suddenly feeling as empty and cold as the winter night outside. His bodiless soul felt the crushing despair of watching the people he loved being in so much emotional pain, and he was angry to find that he couldn’t even cry about it. He felt the emotion, he just couldn’t physically show or express it. 

Which was awful because Peter  _ wanted  _ to cry. He wanted yell and scream at how unfair it was, he wanted cry and gasp for breath because it was  _ so, so  _ painful to be like this, to watch this. He yearned to wrap Aunt May and Wade in his arms and share in the horrible, agonizing wave of misery that he felt now. He wanted to  _ be there  _ with them, even if to just wallow in their own depression.  

But he couldn’t. He was a flimsy, transparent piece of nothing now.  As tangible as a small rush of cold air; and that wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to make them as cold as they were feeling right now. 

“I’m...I’m so sorry for your loss Aunt May,” Wade said, and Peter was surprised to find the mercs voice thick with his own anguish. If he looked close enough, Peter could see the making of wet spots under the eyes of his mask. Aunt May kept crying. 

After a moment, Wade reached up and ripped the Deadpool mask off and flung at the closest chair, before wrapping May in a crushing hug again. Upon doing so, Peter could now see the tears rolling down Wade’s cheek. He saw so much emotion in the mercs eyes, more emotion than Peter’s ever saw before. 

He felt a hole get ripped in his chest; his heart. He felt like he was beginning to implode and fold in on himself. This wretched pain was just growing and growing and Peter had no way of showing it. 

**The bodiless boy watched the two closest people he had in his life for a few more minutes in despairing agony, before he felt his legs give out from him and he fell to his knees. “I’m so sorry.” he whispered, knowing full and well that no one would be able to hear him. **


End file.
